


Sanctuary

by romanticalgirl



Category: Brideshead Revisited - Evelyn Waugh
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-12-04 22:56:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/716024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a place for us</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sanctuary

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a New Year's Resolution fic for lesyeuxverts for [](http://yuletide.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://yuletide.livejournal.com/)**yuletide** NYR story, 2009

Charles keeps his eyes closed, laying back on the tangled mess of sheets that is Sebastian’s bed. There had been a party and far too much alcohol and food, a warning late in the night and quite possibly a visit from the constabulary. Charles doesn’t remember too much of it, just that when everyone else was ushered out, Sebastian had clung to him as if he were Aloysius, refusing to let him go.

There had been more to drink after that – silly and simple toasts made up as an excuse to take another drink, falling in on each other with laughter and sherry-tinged tears until they had fallen asleep here, sheets and clothes and dampness from the dregs of their glasses all mixed together like some Dionysian bacchanal.

“You look quite debauched, Charles.” Sebastian’s voice is as dry as the wine they had started with, his hand trailing slowly up and down Charles’s arm. “As if Lucifer himself had crept into your bed and undone you like a vestal virgin.” His fingers find Charles’s collarbone and trace it to the hollow of his neck, the undone button of his shirt. “Wrinkled and rumpled. What would the headmaster say?”

“Is the headmaster likely to come by, Sebastian?” He still doesn’t open his eyes, letting the slow sway of the room keep its comfortable rhythm, unwilling to interrupt it with the brutal reality of consciousness.

“At some point, he will feel compelled to take me to task, which he will do most embarrassed and flushed, before scurrying away with his tail between his legs like a punished pup, worried that my family fortune shall wend itself to some other distinguished establishment if I continue to receive such horrid treatment in these hallowed halls.” He undoes another button on Charles’s shirt, fingers working their way down to where the fabric is free and hanging over the waist of Charles’s trousers. “I would say we have some time before such a thing happens.”

“Some time?” He dares crack open an eyelid, grateful the room is still hushed in darkness. A faint golden glow surrounds the windows, the thick curtains pulled to keep out most of the light. “I’ve no doubt you have it plotted to the precise second, Sebastian. Your wicked brain is wasted on debauchery, when it could no doubt find a cure for all the world’s ills if you would only use it for something with purpose.”

“I have a purpose, Charles. A very definite one.” He undoes another button, completely opening Charles’s shirt. Sebastian’s fingers splay across Charles’s stomach, tracing patterns only Sebastian understands across his skin. “Admittedly, it has little to do with the maths and sciences and other more noble ventures as our society would prefer I undertake.”

“And what is this ignoble purpose?” Charles knows his voice is dangerously breathless, the silken touch of Sebastian’s fingers winding around him tightly and keeping him from drawing a deeper breath. Sebastian is like a lion, disheveled golden mane and predatory glint to his eyes as he leans over Charles, hunger flashing in his smile.

“You, Charles.” Sebastian’s hand slips lower, undoing Charles’s trousers with a deftness that should be beyond him, given the amount of imbibing they’d done mere hours before. “You are my purpose. Exploring you. Discovering you. Divining your secrets. Unearthing your treasures.” He laughs softly, his fingers sliding beneath the fabric of Charles’s trousers, curving across the material beneath, conforming to the swell of Charles’s arousal. “What have we here?”

“S-Sebastian.” It’s still new enough that it carries the illicit thrill of being so taboo, so dangerously wrong. The need that fills him, that surges through his blood, knows no shame; it floods him and takes over, banishing all thought of stopping, of _wanting_ to stop. Charles’s head falls back, exposing his throat as Sebastian leans in, this tongue flickering across the stretch of skin.

“Yes, Charles?”

“We…w-we mustn’t.”

“Mmm. And to that end I hope you plan to provide lengthy, detailed and well-reasoned points to bolster your argument.” Sebastian’s lips move along Charles’s neck, teeth and tongue working on concert to bring every nerve ending to life, to jolt electricity through Charles’s body. “Because I’m afraid that the ‘we musts’ are presenting quite a rousing defense.” His hand snakes beneath Charles’s underclothes, wrapping around the thickness of Charles’s arousal.

“G-God, Sebastian.”

The word earns Charles a thick, husky laugh and Sebastian moves over him, knees on either side of Charles’s thighs, Sebastian’s weight balanced on his own heels and Charles’s knees. “Careful, Charles, taking thy Lord’s name in vain is quite dangerous. He might smite thee.” Another laugh and Sebastian leans down, one hand bracing himself while the other continues to slide up and down Charles’s length. “Perhaps I am his avenging angel. Shall I smite thee, Charles?”

The thick roughness of Sebastian’s voice shivers across Charles’s skin, bringing up gooseflesh that Sebastian traces with his tongue. He laves Charles’s nipples, one and then the other, tracing the hardened nubs with the tip of his tongue before bathing them with the flat of it, soothing him in the instant before he catches it with his teeth and causes Charles’s body to jerk with reaction.

“S…S-” The power to form words is lost, tangled somewhere with the breath he can no longer seem to find. His body is arched into Sebastian’s mouth and hand, given over completely to the sensations he’s wreaking. Sebastian laughs his own breathlessness caught in skips and jumps against Charles’s skin, like breezes that touch down to send his emotions off in minor whirlwinds.

“You are like a sacrifice.” Sebastian whispers against Charles’s stomach, licking the curves and valleys of flesh and muscle, his tongue darting into Charles’s navel and then out, his laughter skimming along Charles’s skin. “Splayed out and offered up to some Pagan god. Our God does not ask for such sacrifices, Charles. He prefers that we hide everything deep and pray that it stays in the dark.”

Sebastian eases his hand from around Charles’s shaft, leaning back and using both hands to tug at what remains of Charles’s clothes, divesting him of his trousers and undergarments easily. Charles feels drunk again, one something headier than wine and spirits, and Sebastian is a rumpled angel kneeling in prayer between his legs. “Sebastian.” It is, quite simply, a plea and Charles cannot pretend it is anything else, nothing near the reproach or reprimand that it should be to curb this moment, to stop it. He wants Sebastian’s hands and mouth and body and to pretend otherwise would be a lie, tantamount to sin in Sebastian’s eyes.

“Say yes, Charles.” Sebastian’s mouth is dangerously close to Charles’s shaft, his breath fanning along the sensitive skin. Charles cannot help but rise up on his elbows to watch, to see as Sebastian’s tongue paints a delicate stripe along the hardened flesh, his eyes dark as they wait, watching Charles’s mouth for that first hint of acquiescence.

Charles nods and breathes his approval, barely making the first movement before Sebastian takes him in his mouth. Charles grasps tightly at the covers beneath him, fingers twisting in the sheets as his hips angle up to meet the hard suction of Sebastian’s mouth. He groans, burying the sound as best he can by sinking his teeth into his bottom lip, but the squeeze of Sebastian’s hands against the underside of his thighs tell him that he’s fooled no one.

Sebastian’s mouth is relentless, his tongue and lips and teeth working in concert to destroy Charles, to break him down gasp by shuddering gasp until he can take no more, tumbling over the edge of his orgasm and shattering beneath Sebastian like something fragile. Sebastian pulls away slowly, his mouth curved in the same smile as a cat in the cream and he nuzzles at the base of Charles’s shaft, stirring the silky-rough hairs there, wet from Sebastian’s mouth.

“Sebastian.” Charles reaches for him, pulling him up into a salt-tinged kiss, the taste of himself on Sebastian’s lips not quite foreign, but not yet familiar. Charles pushes Sebastian’s trousers open, wrapping his hand around Sebastian’s shaft. He can’t help but groan again, hiding it in a kiss this time, at the heavy, silken weight of the flesh, the velvet smoothness as he strokes him hard and fast, fumbling slightly until he finds the easy rhythm that seems inherent to Sebastian.

It doesn’t take long before Sebastian spends in Charles’s hand, doesn’t take long before they’re both panting roughly and dull behind their eyes, past drunk and into somewhere beyond, sated, sleepy and satisfied and wrapped up together in the darkness of their own private sanctuary while the rest of the world goes on around them, drifting slowly like the Thames until they wake and race to catch up.  


**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 6-11-09


End file.
